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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754879">Lydia is big sad</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/possiblyfloryn/pseuds/possiblyfloryn'>possiblyfloryn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Beetlejuice - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:47:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>675</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754879</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/possiblyfloryn/pseuds/possiblyfloryn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>i don't know how to do summaries just read this trust me</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lydia is big sad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>trigger warning!!<br/>mentions of suicide<br/>mentions of depression<br/>mentions of dead relative</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I didn’t want to wake up today.</p>
<p>Trapped in my own covers, I dreaded for the day ahead.</p>
<p>I never would’ve imagined a day in my life would start with uncontrollable sobbing and refusing to get out of bed. Today couldn’t be any better, hope to God not any worse.</p>
<p>I feel like I should tell you why I’m so exhausted. Today is my mother’s funeral.</p>
<p>After being dragged out of bed and slumped over walking everywhere, I decided I’m up already so just try move on with the day.</p>
<p>I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything, drink anything, do anything even remotely productive. At least I was able to get dressed.</p>
<p>Slumped over with dried tears on my face, I shuffled all the way to the car. I threw myself in and closed my eyes, not ready to accept the fact my whole world was gone.</p>
<p>I reached the place. Frozen in my position.</p>
<p>Staring at my world crumbling down.</p>
<p>I stood. I stood for what seemed like forever.</p>
<p>I stood staring. I stood silent.</p>
<p>I stood staring, silently.</p>
<p>No thoughts.</p>
<p>Just… wind. A dark space, filling my empty mind. A black wind, breathing in and around everyone’s ears. A massive echo, echoing no sound at all.</p>
<p>Empty.</p>
<p>Everything felt empty. </p>
<p>I couldn’t feel. I was numb. Numb from all the emotions. Numb from sleepless nights, staring deep into the sky. The only place I could feel home - where I’m not.</p>
<p>"You know what? I'm not happy. I'm not happy with ANYTHING. Nothing is going well for me. I. Want. OUT."</p>
<p>I had been contemplating this for minutes, hours, days, weeks, MONTHS. </p>
<p>If I had done it, wouldn’t the only outcome for me be positive? </p>
<p>I was so alone. I FELT so alone. But only, if I really let myself go and do that, I’d be able to see my mom again. </p>
<p>I would, right? The afterlife wouldn’t be that bad. Aging wouldn’t work, I could just float around aimlessly and see… you know… my mom.</p>
<p>Each night I sat in bed, wishing I wouldn’t wake up the next day. </p>
<p>With calm air wandering around the room and the moonlight shining through my window, I let my mind ponder. Ponder about so many things. </p>
<p>I’d tuck myself in bed, pretending my mom would do that one last time. </p>
<p>Every morning I sat in bed, frustrated I was still here. Staring at the wall and sulking is how I spend my early hours, hoping I would see my mom again.</p>
<p>Frozen and stuck to my bed, I wrote. And wrote. And wrote.</p>
<p>I spilled my feelings all out on this final piece of paper.</p>
<p>Trembling up the dusty, freezing stairs, I read my note over. And over. And over.</p>
<p>I almost tripped once I reached the top, surprised that there weren't any more steps to take. Everything I had done in that moment would’ve been my last. Emphasise on WOULD’VE.</p>
<p>Finally, I had reached the roof.</p>
<p>My mind had a race, competing with my heart. Is this what I wanted? Of course it is.</p>
<p>I mean, it’s been months and the only thing I would get out of this is relief. Bliss. Sweet release. Right? No one cares if I’m gone, no one cares I’m here in the first place... at least I think so.</p>
<p>I can't really be that important to anyone. I mean, I was just a bag of flesh, bones.. and sadness. No one could really think I'm all that great.</p>
<p>Although, I've just got a few friends. Friends who really.. are.. nice. To me, at least. They're always there for me, and just kick it out of the park with kindness, and...</p>
<p>You know what? Maybe life is more than being upset. Maybe life is more than sitting in bed, crying. Maybe life is more than just mourning.</p>
<p>I don't want to do this. Life is so much better than THIS.</p>
<p>Running back downstairs ripping the paper up into tiny little pieces, I felt a new hope for life. For EVERYTHING.</p>
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